


John Laurens is the best Eponine

by yxuraffectionatelaurens



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: !!!, F/M, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Sad John, Unrequited Love, also, feelings are hard for john, francis kinloch references, hamiltraaaaash, john shouldn't be in charge of decisions, lams is bae, literally just john singing in the rain and crying smh, martha doesn't deserve this, well "unrequited" love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-16 07:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7257322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yxuraffectionatelaurens/pseuds/yxuraffectionatelaurens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On My Own is such a beautiful song, and after pouring all my time and energy into Hamilton and Les Mis, I realized that there is honestly just nothing better than John Laurens singing about his love for Alexander Hamilton in the rain. In this AU, John is Eponine, Alexander is Marius, Eliza is Cosette, and John might realize that his feelings aren't entirely unrequited like he believes if he just told Alexander. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On My Own

_Elizabeth._  


John watched her as she trailed away, skirt brushing across the ground in the overgrown, lush garden. Pink flowers spilled over the wall, complementing the softness of her blue gown - she disappeared through the front door, the candle light leaving as she left.  


The note she’d tucked into the gate, cold metal against his fingers sending tiny sparks of ice through his skin, was addressed to Alexander. Hesitation caught him cold for a moment, but he looked up again to where Eliza had disappeared, and pictured Alexander standing here at the gate, fingers trailing across it, that…  


That absolute look of _adoration_ in Alexander’s eyes when Eliza smiled.  


The heavens clouded over, and rain took the place of the pair that had disappeared, leaving John alone in his solitude. He put the note into his pocket, biting hard into his lip. The rain began to soak into the world, the pale darkness of the city at night illuminated only by what starlight could slip through the clouds and the lanterns hanging off the crooked buildings.  


His coat had seen too many winters, but his body not enough. John clutched at it around him, unable to keep the rain from pelting him through the holes in the fabric, and started walking.  


Images of Alexander filled his mind, and he pushed the ones he’d seen earlier - lovestruck, hopeful, longing - back to where they couldn’t hurt him. Instead, he let himself be swallowed in the memories that didn’t hurt quite so much, the ones of Alexander with a smile so wide that it warmed John’s soul, the ones of them laughing together. Sitting up til late in the morning, burning through candles faster than he could write, etching every word into paper and hoping, praying, that Alexander would feel the love burning behind them.  


But no matter how much he tried, the feelings would not be pushed under. It didn’t matter how much John tried to focus on an Alexander who cared for him deeply, who stood by his side through all the weathers of the world - it slipped away in the sight of the joy spilling from his tone as he raced through the streets, lead by John, earlier that night. He’d brought him there, lead Alexander to the home of Eliza, knowing at his insistent begging how much he desired to meet her there.  


As if Alex would listen to him anyways, if he were to tell him. As if he’d feel the same. He tried not to think of the disgust he’d see on Alexander’s face, his lips curling up, confused at the very thought of it. Men simply didn’t _like_ other men, that was just the way it went. He’d been reminded that enough by his dreadful parents, so often neglectful and distracted except for the one time they had found out about his preferences, and his arms still shook with anxiety at the memory.  


Francis had been such a pretty boy - despite all the dirt on his cheeks and the loyalty in the crinkles in his eyes, John had always admired the gentleness in his movements. He was John’s first kiss, albeit his only. As if Henry needed more reason to hate his son.  


Rain soaked through his hair, and the world took on a quiet blue glow. John wrung his hands out a little, shaking away the remnants of his thoughts. Water sloshed around the tips of his worn boots, and John tilted his head back to the sky, letting rain drip off his face and soak through into his skin. _Deep breaths, Laurens. Compose yourself. ___  


It had been so long since he had felt the embrace of music, and John imagined it there in the streets, walking through the muddy rainwater and feeling the fresher water hit his face. He tried to imagine what it sounded like, half humming, half choking through the frustrated, painful lump in his throat.  


 _On my own_  
_Pretending he's beside me_  
_All alone,_  
_I walk with him 'til morning_  
_Without him,_  
_I feel his arms around me_  
_And when I lose my way I close my eyes_  
_And he has found me_  


A small smile found its way onto John’s face, and for the first time that night, he truly let himself imagine it. The world burned a little brighter, his skin warmed just a little, and he held his arms to his chest, imagining that it was Alexander, the man he loved more than was appropriate to ever say aloud, the man he imagined walking at his side with a wide smile and inviting arms.  


He imagined the freedom of pulling Alexander in for a kiss, the way his lips would taste, the way he would hold John and tangle his fingers so deep into his hair that John could feel nothing but _him._  


Just… to hold Alexander’s smaller hand, feeling the fingertips that were so well accustomed to the hold of a quill and lesser so to that of a lover’s touch. How much would he pay to walk at Alexander’s side in the gentle comfort of night? Alexander, Alexander, his Alexander, _his_ Alexander.  


_In the rain, the pavement shines like silver_  
_All the lights are misty in the river_  
_In the darkness, the trees are full of starlight_  
_And all I see is him and me forever and forever_  
Just the thought of it, as horridly over romantic as it was, seemed to brighten the dim streets around him. He imagined the way Alexander would describe the damp street. Only he could do justice to the feeling of the rain misting around them, only he could truly see the starlight sparkling through such a common thing as the rainfall.  
Only Alexander would see the gentle horizon where John saw unending darkness.  
_And I know it's only in my mind_  
_That I'm talking to myself and not to him_  
_And although I know that he is blind_  
_Still I say there's a way for us_  


The illusion faded faster than John could reach out to catch it, the sound of Alexander’s unspoken flowery language leaving him in the darkness of the evening. This was why he hated to imagine the stolen kisses, the hand holding, the love that flowed through his blood so hot that he felt angry and irritated. It was a curse, and John sniffled through uncomfortable, unwanted tears.  


It was all in his head, his cursed head, so filled with hope and heated longing that he could barely manage to push it down long enough to remember the horrid truth of his situation - that Alexander was in love with Eliza, that Alexander didn’t love him, that it was all him.  


_I love him_   


It hurt to admit.  


The words stung his tongue, a tear slipping off his cheek and mingling with the rain water that was there in the first place. John felt weak, weak, _weak_ , and he tried desperately to get the feeling of absolute vulnerability off his shoulders.  


_But when the night is over_  
_He is gone,_  
_The river's just a river_  
_Without him,_  
_The world around me changes_  
_The trees are bare and everywhere_  
_The streets are full of strangers…_  


The tears were coming harder now, and he bit his lip through them. The streets grew dimmer as a cloud passed over the moon, and John looked up to look at the sky again. The cloud’s shadow drifted across him, and the rain made his clothes stick to his skin. John felt like he looked like the street rat he was.  


_I love him._  
_But every day I'm learning_  
_All my life,_  
_I've only been pretending_  
_Without me,_  
_His world will go on turning_  
_A world that's full of happiness_  
_That I have never known_  


John stepped into an alcove where the rain couldn’t touch him any more - somehow, every drop that hit his skin with stunning sharpness seemed to pierce him, and altogether it felt like Alexander, like his hands, his lips, his voice, his skin - things John could never touch. They would never be his.  


Alexander had Eliza. He didn’t need John; sure, they were good friends, but he didn’t _need_ John the same way John needed him. He would look at Eliza with all that love and excitement at their wedding, if they survived the cold nights ahead, which John was sure they would. Alexander had lived through so much before and he could handle the fight.  


He would look at her like that if they ever bore children together, he would look at her like that when she gripped his hand gently, yet firmly, he would look at her like that for the rest of her life and he would never give a second damned thought to the idea that maybe...  


_I love him..._  
_I love him..._  
_I love him..._  


John gripped at his tattered sleeves, pressing his forehead into the wall so hard that it nearly cleared out the pain he was trying to grab out of himself.  


All he could hear was the rain drumming on the pavement and the buildings around, biting his lip through the words. It was only when the pain began to pulsate through his hands that he realized he’d been clenching his fists.  


_But only on my own..._   


John sighed.  


He allowed himself one more tear.  


Then, he pulled it together and headed off down the street.  


The rain was still falling, having found a comfortable rhythm that was both unending and pulsating, and the sound could’ve lulled John to sleep. He walked through the streets, quiet again, arms crossed across his chest, his hair beginning to gain volume with the moisture.  


He pushed all thoughts of Alexander so deep beneath the surface that the streets finally seemed quite again and it didn’t hurt so horribly when he knocked on the door.  


John waited in front of a crooked wooden door, where one sliver of a crack revealed a flickering candlelight inside. His arm hurt a little as he leaned against the top of the door frame, counting the seconds it took for her to come to the door -  


Martha’s hair was long, soft brown curls down her back in the candlelight of evening. “John?” One hand was splayed across the front door, pushing it open as she opened it further, curiosity instilled into her beautiful yet plain face.  


John froze for a second, stepping under the cover of the small ledge just above the doorway. Every inch of John’s skin prickled with what he was about to do, but the rain around him gave ounce of comfort - it instilled courage in him.  


Hateful thoughts at himself were a little more uncomfortable than the prickling of apology that he felt he owed Martha, but she was looking at him with so much gentle care that he had no idea how to say no to her, especially when he’d come here to rid himself of the self-loathing swimming around in his head.  


She wasn’t suspecting it when he stepped forward, pulling her into his arms and pressing his lips to hers. Martha was obviously surprised. He felt it in the way she nearly retreated, her hand almost relaxing as she tried to keep a hold on the candleholder in her hand.  


John wanted nothing more than to curl up and go to sleep, to stop it - Martha didn’t deserve this from him, even if she had expressed feelings for him before. But words still swam through his head, aching, burning him.  


_Cursed. Wrong. I need to fix this. I need to be normal._   


Martha looked deep into John’s eyes when he pulled away, and John tried to regulate his breathing. If he hadn’t, then the panting that took over normal breaths would’ve given away how absolutely helpless he felt.  


And yet here he was, kissing her again, until Martha closed the front door behind him and tangled her fingers in his wet hair. She stopped then, breath heavy on her lips, looking at John as if he was a ghost. He was dripping in her entryway, a candle still burning in her right hand.  


“John? Have you changed your mind? I thought you said that you didn’t want to-”  


John’s heart leapt into his throat, and he half felt like he’d be sick. Rainwater still slid from his hair and dripped onto her hand, Martha’s eyes so innocent and desperate at the same time. She didn’t deserve this, dear God.  


He stuttered as he spoke, hands shaking on her back. “I was consumed with the thought of your kiss, Martha. I need… I need you.” John kissed her cheek again, consumed with what he needed to destroy.  


_Alexander._   


John’s teeth pressed into his bottom lip. “Let me spend these final hours before we fight with one who makes me happy.”  


The smile that spread on Martha’s face was even brighter than the one she’d worn when she saw him standing in the doorway. He tried to suppress the shaking that threatened to overwhelm him when she kissed him again.  


When he left in the morning, John’s thoughts were more or less entirely focused on the barricade, on what lay ahead, and determined he was entirely ready to give up his life for freedom. Alexander was so far from his mind that he almost managed to leave Martha without stifling through what threatened to be tears.


	2. A Little Fall of Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't do On My Own and _not_ do A Little Fall of Rain.

The streets rang with the cries of both the French soldiers and the other students, and John had never seen so much panic and fear in one place. His own heartbeat felt incredibly erratic, adrenaline coursing through him as he rushed up to the side of the barricade.  


Only hours ago, it had seemed, they had formed it with such confidence, with smiles stretching the length of the long alleyways they’d backed themselves into. Students were tripping on themselves around him, gunshots making the air smell of powder and feel thick with blood and death. The bullets rained down on every side of him, some striking students, some disappearing into unknown corners of the barricade. It had only been hours ago that they had piled up the furniture as precariously as they could, knowing they were risking it all. It hadn’t felt like it.  


Only joy and thoughts of change had filled the laughter of the students at the barricade. They sang of tomorrow, of revolution.  


Panic leapt into John’s throat, and as he looked up to the barricade - guns were firing off, and he wanted to be sick. Chairs, desks, tables were piled before him. There was a torn flag pinned between the bloodied bodies.  


The adrenaline fueled him again, snapping his head up. All he could see was fire curling off a torch like a banner of flame in the night sky, Alexander climbing the barricade, and a soldier’s barrel aimed too specifically and _Alexander_ and ---  


“No!” John half leapt forward, grabbing onto the hard edges of the barricade, pushing things out of the way if he could, slightly dislodging furniture. A sob caught itself strangled in his throat, and John barely felt his fingers close around the cold barrel of the gun before his vision flashed with red.  


Colors. Pure, beautiful, blurred colors. The gunshot shook John’s body, his teeth clicking together as his bones vibrated, and he barely managed to uncurl his fingers before he saw all the world unfurl before him.  


Once the gunshot ricocheted through him, pain gripping him like a suffocating hand, time moving a thousand times slower than it truly was, all John could see was the end of night and the beginning of dawn all at once. Red and black bleeding into each other in an endless cycle.  


_Red._  
_The world about to dawn._  
_Black._  
_The night that ends at last._  


When he opened his eyes, Alexander was looking at him. It was all John could see, defocusing and focusing, those intense, beautiful eyes looking right at him.  
For the first time, John realized, Alexander saw him.  


_Red._  
_The warmth inside his arms._  
_Black…_  


The next thing that spread through his body was pain, so fast that his body shook with it. Pure, undiluted, spiking pain. John wanted to scream, wanted to cry out with all the red spilling through his body. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t- he couldn’t -  


John tumbled back over the barricade, hardly feeling it at all.  


The first thing he heard when hearing jolted back into his body was his heartbeat in his ears, and then Alexander’s voice. He was screaming, yelling - the burning torch drew his hazy attention, even if the colors of the fire slurred and flickered about with what he could see.  


“Fall back or I blow the barricade!” Alexander’s face gleamed in the torchlight, but the soldiers held their ground. One of them spat back, but it wasn’t worth the energy that was quickly draining from his body to strain to hear it. All around John, the students were pausing, watching above - Hercules and Lafayette were rushing forward, trying to pull him down off the barricade.  


John’s heartbeat had never felt louder in his ears, but he managed to focus long enough to hear Alexander’s reply, now deadly soft. “And myself with it.” He dipped the torch closer to a barrel, the contents most likely dangerous, and John vaguely felt himself clatter to the ground. His body was trembling so horridly that he felt blood shaking off him with every shiver. As he touched his side gently, he brought back a hand dripping in his own blood, so dark and red that his body convulsed again.  


Voices exploded into full volume around him, and John saw friends, people he had known since childhood, people he’d shared laughter and tears and years with. Then all he saw was Alexander, shoving through people, the torch gone. Behind him, Lafayette’s face was now glowing with the soft orange light.  


John wanted to watch that face, those eyes, all of him - until he realized Alexander was shoving his way towards _him_.  


His hand was moving on its own will, pushing into his coat pocket. He found the letter just before Alexander arrived, and held it out to him. John’s arm protested, straining, screaming at him, but he held it out until Alexander would take it. “I kept it from you… It’s from Eliza.” His eyes fixated on the letter until it left his hand.  


When he looked up, Alexander was looking down at him. The pain in his expression made John’s body quiver with guilt, with sorrow, with longing to fix what he had broken. This was his fault, he realized.  


“I’m sorry,” John breathed softly, and he felt a tear slip down his cheek. His breathing was ragged enough that when Alexander looked back at him, that pain worsened.  


“What have you done?” It was only now that John could see that Alexander was trembling as he scrambled to his knees, pulling John’s coat open to see it. It was more blood than John had ever seen in his life, but it didn’t scare him. It didn’t even hurt any more. It felt distant, like some part of his body in a far off world where they were disconnected. As John pulled in a sharp breath, a raindrop splattered against his cheek.  


Alexander’s voice was intolerably soft.  


John finally realized he was dying.  


He didn’t want to spend every last breathing second thinking of the years of suffering and toil he’d waded through, or the long years he had spent pining after Alexander, hoping that he would finally see him. But those eyes - usually sparkling with flame - were softened, misting over with tears, and when they met John’s, he knew that Alexander was truly seeing him now.  


It was hard to focus, but John gave all his energy into it, looking into Alexander’s eyes. It was raining now, drops splashing down onto the pavement around them, Alex’s hair dripping gently onto John’s arm. His hands were already too wet with blood to be spoiled any further.  


_Don't you fret, my Alexander, I don't feel any pain._  
_A little fall of rain can hardly hurt me now._  
_You're here, that's all I need to know._  


As the name left his lips, John’s breath staggered in his throat, but he forced it out anyways. As Alexander pulled him close, drawing John’s more or less still body into his own, the pain was fading. He felt nothing, felt no pain, felt no joy, felt no sorrow, none of the gleeful revolutionary spirit that had poured through his soul only hours ago.  


All he felt was Alexander all around him, mouth twitching as he tried to hold onto John, tears spilling down his cheeks.  


John thought he could see the stars through the clouds now, even though they were really hidden, and the world slowed to a stop around him. Starlight filled every inch of his vision, every blink shuddered with a thousand tiny lights calling him home.  


In the stars, he saw Alexander’s face, and the brightness with which it shone made all the tiny stars seem dim next to it.  


The clouds were in reality blocking the stars, but it didn't matter - the blood loss was making him a little delirious. Alexander was holding him and that was enough.  


_And you will keep me safe._  
_And you will keep me close._  
_And rain will make the flowers grow._  


John tangled his finger in Alexander’s cravat and relaxed in his arms.  


Alexander’s lips still trembled with pain, arms holding John’s body as the shaking grew worse. He made sure to keep their eye contact established - if he looked deep into his eyes, if John _looked_ at him, then he wouldn’t -- he wouldn’t --  


Alexander’s voice came out harder than he meant it to, more insistent. His voice was saying _look at me_ as he touched John’s face, ran his finger over every tiny freckle smeared across his cheeks.  


_But you will live, dear John, Dear God above._  
_If I could close your wounds with words of love._  


Of course. John coughed gently into the rain, feeling blood on his tongue. Alexander had everything in his life because of his words, because of the way he wielded a quill. He had gotten here through the power of his writing.  


And now, kneeling in the puddle of rainwater that was dyed red with John’s blood, his words could do nothing. The tether of John’s life was fraying like a rope under too much strain, threatening to snap at any moment. Both of them knew the snap wouldn’t be loud and chaotic, but rather, a gentle sever that cut John’s life from his body. Both of them knew it was right around the corner.  


Words of love. Even breaths away from death, the thought warmed the spread out warm patches on his otherwise quickly chilling body.  


_Just hold me now and let it be._  
_Shelter me, comfort me._  


John had no fear in his heart any more, no worry of rejection or being cast off. As he took his hand, the skin was warm, and John held Alexander’s soft, bloodstained palm to his cheek. Every part of his body relaxed at the touch, even if John had guided his hand there.  


Another tear slid down Alexander’s face, and when it hit John’s, he could somehow distinguish it from the rain drops. It felt different. It felt warm.  


_So don't you fret, dear Alexander, I don't feel any pain._  


Alexander slipped into harmony with him so quietly that John’s heart threatened to break even more, but he was determined not to let it. He tried for the smallest of smiles, anything, anything to prove to Alexander that he was hanging on here to be with him.  


The only parts of himself he could still feel were the parts that Alexander was touching, his face, his arms, his hair. As Alexander tried to smile back, he barely bit through what John recognized as a sob.  


_He loves me._  


John’s body convulsed a little, and he was trembling in Alexander’s arms, but the thought washed over him with such calming gentleness that  


_A little fall of rain can hardly hurt me (you) now._  
_I'm here._  


Alexander’s voice was quieter than a whisper, holding John as tightly to him as he could. John’s blood was everywhere - Alexander was holding him so tightly that if you looked at the two of them side by side, you wouldn’t be able to tell which one had been shot.  


John rested his head against Alexander’s chest, and this time, he didn’t have to force a smile.  


_That's all I need to know._  
_And you will keep me safe._  
_(And I will stay with you)_  
_And you will keep me close._  
_(Till you are sleeping)_  


Alexander’s voice was so deep and gentle and lulling, and it was the most beautiful thing John had ever heard. His hand drifted up gently to touch the softness of his cheek, feeling the gentle scruff on his chin. He ached to say it, to tell him that he loved him.  


_And rain_  
_(And rain)_  


Where John could not finish, a gentle lightheadedness beginning to overcome, Alexander finished for him. John could barely see anything except for Alexander. Alex’s hands tangled through his dark curls.  


_Will make the flowers_  
_(Will make the flowers...)_  


John's fingers slacked, and with a tiny, forced breath, he smiled.  


Alexander had taken over the shaking, looking at John’s soft, beautiful face in the rain. He was covered in gentle freckles and laugh lines and youth.  


_...grow._  


He held John’s soft body, covered in his blood, barely able to hold back a sob. When he leaned in, he pressed a gentle kiss right between John’s eyebrows. His lips stuck a little when he pulled away, tasting rain drops on his skin. If John had only said something, he would've…  


Lafayette was the only one who could see how horribly Alexander was shaking as he pressed his hand over his mouth, trembling with silent sobs. He handed the torch off to Hercules as he approached, gathering John’s small body in his arms. The blood had already begun to wet Lafayette's hands.  


He began walking away, trying to find a place where John could be at rest, where his body could not be harmed.  


Lafayette’s voice was quiet. “Sleep well, _mon petit_.”  


The students were gathered around, trying not to look at Alexander - his hands were slick with blood, but he was looking up at the sky.  


Alexander sighed and bit into his lip as the rain slowed to a stop. The stars had come out.


End file.
